If You Only Knew
by simplemelodies
Summary: An encounter with Sherlock's older brother, Mycroft, brings thoughts of love to both the doctor and the detective. Rated T for language. Co-written with themustachery.


Author's Note: This fic was written by both me and the amazing themustachery. **Bold** is her doing, regular is mine.

Chapter 1

SH

I turn around to the broken window, certain I heard voices. "John is that-." It is now I realize I shouldn't have spoken at all. There is a hand over my mouth, pulling me back into the depths of the building. My vision escapes me along with the light-or what little light there was. Since I can't see, I focus on smell, touch, even taste.

The room I end up in is small, indicated by the lack of echo. I hear nothing else, besides the retreating footsteps of my captor. I don't move certain that this it would not be wise to do so.

So I wait. I have never been good at waiting.

**I figure I am in the countryside because there is no sound of traffic or noise, and the air smells cleaner. I count the minutes and even seconds, but nothing seems to happen for seventeen. After that, I hear a familiar voice. Obviously, Mycroft, but why? I cannot make out what is being said, but I vaguely hear Johns name from an unknown voice. They are approaching, and I hear John saying something in a questioning manner. **

**"Mycroft, why?" I can make out from John. He sounds a little bit worried. My brother comments that it doesn't concern him and tells who I assume the unknown voice is to take him away. Two pairs of footsteps leave, one approaches.**

"Sherlock," I hear from that pompous bloke I share a gene pool with.

"Brother, dear." I still cannot see anything-this room must have no windows, or they're just blacked out. I would not like to find out how my sibling knew I was to be in the shop-that is the last I remembered before waking up in this godforsaken townhouse. "What is it this time, Mycroft?"

**"No need I be nasty, little brother." He says in a snarky manner. The light is shining from behind him, so I can only make out his silhouette, but I assume he is smirking. "I am just interested in some information I know you have acquired." He states. **

**"What information?" I snap back. The room has crème colored walls with nothing in it. "About whom?" He obviously wants information on a person.**

"The robberies that London has dealt with as of late have caused an unsettlement in the Government." God forbid Mycroft be unsettled. "I know you had to have acquired some information-it's far too interesting of a case for you to pass it up."

Ah, the robberies. "A string of robberies all targeted at the heads of some of the largest companies in London? That's actually quite boring." I sigh, however, knowing I can't leave until I've given him what he wants.

**"Why do you need me for this? Have you stooped to Lestrade's level and now require my assistance?" I inquire, "You have been spending quite some time with him, have you not?" **

**"That is none of your concern." He states, slightly uncomfortable at this statement of mine. **

**"At least untie me; this is no way to have a conversation." **

**Mycroft laughs, "And yet you would appear before the queen in nothing but a sheet."**

"Hmm. That was my own doing. Do you expect me to spend time getting dressed when there is a case to solve?" The look on his face tells me that yes, he does. "Okay, I don't know much— just that the stolen paintings were fakes and they were all inside jobs."

Mycroft looks a bit surprised-brows raised, widened eyes, slight tilting back of the head. Oh, he didn't know this, did he?

**"What is the connection? And why steal forgeries?" He asks, lacing his fingers together. **

**"We'll obviously they have connections with whoever replaced the real paintings with fakes- where is John?" I ask, scowling slightly. I will not play Mycroft's games today; he will play mine.**

Mycroft rolls his eyes to the ceiling, so obviously annoyed. "He is fine, back at the flat actually."

"You obviously don't expect me to believe that. Really, brother, have a little more faith in me." I can hear footsteps now; quick, short footfalls. "Oh and here he is."

John strides in, hands in pockets, with a frustrated expression blanketing his features. "Jesus. Did you really have to tie him?"

**"How else would I get him to stay?" Mycroft answers, feigning an earnest tone. **

**"Untie him now!" My doctor demands, "You know what? I'll do it." He huffs a bit and walks, frustrated, to the back of the chair I am tied to, and promptly begins struggling with the knots, every now and again cursing them and questioning to himself who tied the "damn things."**

**"Your lies are becoming less competent, brother." I nearly spit at the man. **

"Maybe I wasn't trying, brother," he spits back at me. "Now," he continues in British Government mode, "How do you know these things, Sherlock?"

Finally, John gets the knots free-using a pocketknife isn't cheating-and I stand, making my way to the door. "I don't know," I announce over my shoulder, "I notice."

The door clicks behind John and me and we are free.

**"We will finish this later, Sherlock." He glares as John and I walk past him. **

**"Are we really going to do this again, Sherlock?" John asks, keeping up with me, "why don't you just give him what he wants?" **

**"Because!" I state. John is so simple! "There is no fun in that, John." I purse my lips slightly, adjusting my scarf as we exit the town house, and immediately have to shade my eyes from the bright sun.**

John grimaces beside me and holds his arm to his forehead, blocking the sun. "No, Sherlock." He sounds quite serious, if you don't notice the slight grin. "It's never fun."

His sarcasm has me grinning, something I've been doing a lot more if lately-but only at select times, with select people. Or person. "Please tell me why you're here, John." His smile fades and we are quickly brought back to the severity of the situation

**"Same reason you are. Mycroft brought me here for... Questioning."**

**"Questioning, John?" I inquire, noticing his blush, "about what?" **

**"Oh what do you think?!" He stammers; it's rather cute. "I don't want to answer your questions two but I highly doubt he interrogated us for the same things." **

**"Really, John, don't be so embarrassed. He was asking about Lestrade, wasn't he?" **

**"How did you get that?" I can tell he is getting exasperated at my questions, I know I should stop before a fight happens. "Never mind, I don't want to know." **

**I smile. This rare occurrence isn't rare with the good doctor around.**

Once back in London-I hate the bloody countryside-John and I stop at Angelo's for a quick dinner. Well, John has dinner; I just sit back and observe the weekend crowd. "He's cheating, but-oh, multiple lovers-she knows that she is just a-how would you say that?-fuck buddy. Look, the way she leans forward. It shows intimacy, but the lack of touch shows emotional distance."

**"Would you stop?" John asks, seemingly unsettled. "You're prying into other people's personal lives." **

**"You have your fun and I have mine, John." I state simply. He rolls his eyes. "Are you going to eat anything?" He questions. He wants me to eat, but I shake my head, "I'm not hungry. If I am later, I'll have Mrs. Hudson make me something."**

**"She's not our house keeper, you know."**

"I'm well aware of this." John gives me a threatening look, as if I was being sarcastic.

"So," he begins, "what is the deal wi-."

"It was the security guard." John sets down his fork.

"All five times?"

"Yes, John. Don't give me that look. I didn't tell Mycroft because he already knew."

"Well then why did he go to the trouble of kidnapping both of us?"

"He needed other...information. I just don't know what yet."

**"Alright. I'm done, can we go now?" He asks. He looks somewhat guilty, I assume for whatever information he gave my creature of a brother. How bad could it be if it was only concerning Lestrade as he said?**

**"Check!" I call out to a waiter, and turn back to my doctor. "Do we have a case at the moment?" I ask determinedly.**

"You tell me, Sherlock." John tends to annoy more than most people. Why do I ever put up with him?

I raise my eyes to his. "You should tell me what you were questioned about first, because it obviously wasn't just about Lestrade." John's eyes shift away from mine, focusing on the empty cup of tea. "Oh. So it was about me. I would expect nothing less."

**"I don't want to talk about this." He states, pursing his lips as if to stop any words from coming out.**

**"I assume that you're not going to talk without compensation," I smirked at him, making him blush. **

**As the card and check was returned to us, John stood, putting both in his wallet. "We're going now, Sherlock, come on."**

As we walk to the flat—we're only five minutes away on foot—we stay in a companionable silence. I guess this is something I admire in this army doctor; he prefers silence over constant chatter. However, as we near the flat, he begins to spill out information on his interrogation.

"Mycroft didn't get a lot out of me, you see. He questioned me mostly about Lestrade and his work. Why would he...oh. Never mind that, then." John pauses, as if to have a moment of silence for the tragedy that is my brother's infatuation with the D.I. "He had other questions, as well. Confusing ones, I guess."

Now we are at the flat and John is quiet, evasive. I assume he won't speak of the interview anymore, so I am surprised when we are in the den and he speaks up.

**"Mycroft seems to think we are lovers." He says, making a face. "Why does everyone think we are lovers? We aren't... Are we?" His faces shows a certain amount of concern, and though the final question was intended rhetorically I can tell there was at least some wondering. **

**I smile at my doctor, waiting for him to continue to something more important. "Why doesn't mycroft ask Greg himself the things he asked me?"**

"Because my brother, who could be as observant as I if he chose to be, would rather torture innocent bystanders than go to the source itself." I am here, physically in the flat, but I am gone, away into my mind palace. I notice John speaking, but I can't worry about that now. Mycroft believes we are lovers. John and I are flatmates. Friends, even, on good days. But we are a far cry from lovers. Aren't we?

"No." I voice my thought before I can stop it.

"I'm sorry?" I hear from the kitchen. I glance around the flat, then finally check the time on my cell. It's been an hour since we arrived at the flat. I stay quiet, not wanting to voice, again, something almost terrifying.

**"Nothing." I say, already far off again. I hear Johns voice, and it is somewhat comforting. Soon there is nothing to hear, and I assume he has left the room. **

**Could Mycroft have possibly noticed something I didn't? Impossible. Completely impossible. John was my closest friend.**

Could "was" be the key word then? John and I are close, of course, but I could never see him in a romantic light. I've never noticed anyone in that way, not even Ms. Adler. I want to say John is just a flatmate, a coworker, a blogger with whom I share living space, but I can't seem to do that much anymore. John is a friend, I suppose.

When I hear my stomach start to turn over and make noises, I decide it is time for dinner. "John," I begin, intending to ask for some food. I hear nothing, however, and glance at my phone again. It is three a.m. and I am far too wired to sleep, but I know John must be, so I settle into the couch again and wait for him to awaken. Only a few minutes have passed and when I hear footsteps emanating from John's bedroom.

**"John, I am hungry." I state loud enough for him to hear. Out stumbles a disheveled and tired doctor. **

**"Sherlock do you know what time it is?" He asks, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "It is 3:24 am and I am no making you something to eat." **

**"But I'm hungry, and heaven knows I can't cook." **

**I hear a low groan as he wanders to the kitchen. "It's not like I need sleep anyway."**

I sit up straight on the couch when he brings the biscuits to set them on the table. "Tea?"

"Yes, of course." John turns—a military-type move that reminds me of his past—and grumbles about how he's not my housekeeper.

I decide to make light of the situation. "No, of course you're not. That is Mrs. Hudson's job." John's shoulders shake as he stands over the stove, telling me he didn't find the humor offensive. When he turns back to me, I note the smile still lingering in his features, causing a tightening in my chest.

**"Thank you, John." I say, treating myself to a biscuit and tea. I can sense his smile, but when I turn to him it's gone. Is he trying to hide it? **

**"You're still hiding something." **

**John purses his lips and crosses his arms, "drink your tea. I am going back to bed." He then turns to leave.**

"John." I reach out and take hold of his shirt sleeve. "Stay. You have to explain some things."

The doctor turns to me, raises a brow, and takes a seat beside me on the couch, stretching out his legs. "I don't know what to say. I've told you everything he asked, Sherlock."

"Yes, but did you tell me everything you answered back?" John's eyes snap up to meet mine. Yes, he is definitely keeping something from me.

**"Why do you need to know?" He asks. He seems ashamed of whatever answers he gave.**

**"Because," I start blandly, "it's important."**

**The army doctor sighs and shifts in his chair to get comfortable. What is it he is keeping from me? I probably know anyway, and he knows that.**

"Your curiosity will get you killed one day, Sherlock." But I know he will continue—he always does. "I've never thought about you in that sense. Mycroft had the oddest look on his face on his face when I told him this, though, as if he expected a different answer." Pause. "I don't know what is going on." He raises his hands to press the heels of his hands to his eyes.

**"Can't we talk about this tomorrow?" He asks; what is he keeping from me? "I'm tired Sherlock." He yawns and ruffles his hair. I consider leaving further interrogations till morning, but I need to know now. **

**"He asked about our relationship." He said, sounding grumpy. **

"Yes, John. I know." He is so irritating! "Look, if it was a simple answer, it should only take a minute to tell me. Unless it wasn't a simple answer, which means you will get no sleep until you explain it." John glares at me with exhausted eyes.

"It will never be a simple answer when it involves Sherlock Holmes."

**"For god's sake Sherlock it is four in the morning and I intend to get more sleep. It is not important and it can wait!" He stands up quickly. I recalled waking him up the morning before around this time and was not surprised that he was so frustrated and very exhausted looking.**

I want to let him go; this conversation can wait a few hours anyway. "Wait. Sherlock, why do you need to know so badly?" While saying this, John lifts one hand in the air and spins on his heel with his eyes pinched together in question.

"Why do I need to know anything? Information. Deduction."

**He rolls his eyes, irritated. "Why do I ever do anything for you? It's always for 'deduction.'" John returns to his bedroom, nearly storming off. I purse my lips again. Was this my fault? I suppose it was. I go to my own bedroom, still not the slightest bit weary, and continue my thoughts there**.


End file.
